


Take Me Back

by mothermantids



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, One Shot, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29529894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothermantids/pseuds/mothermantids
Summary: A Lavender x Ron short capturing the deterioration of a relationship.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. All.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not the only traveler  
> Who has not repaid his debt  
> I've been searching for a trail to follow again  
> Take me back to the night we met
> 
> And then I can tell myself  
> What the hell I'm supposed to do  
> And then I can tell myself  
> Not to ride along with you
> 
> I had all and then most of you  
> Some and now none of you  
> Take me back to the night we met  
> I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
> Haunted by the ghost of you  
> Oh, take me back to the night we met
> 
> When the night was full of terrors  
> And your eyes were filled with tears  
> When you had not touched me yet  
> Oh, take me back to the night we met
> 
> I had all and then most of you  
> Some and now none of you  
> Take me back to the night we met  
> I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
> Haunted by the ghost of you  
> Take me back to the night we met
> 
> \- Lord Huron, "The Night We Met"

Amongst the dancing and the talking and the cheering coming from the Gryffindor Common Room, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And for the first time in her life, Lavender Brown could have sworn her heart caught on fire.

She melted into the kiss, snaking her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer, the sounds of the party drowning themselves out. Her attention was here, with Ron Weasley. Nothing else could have possibly mattered more than this did.

All those many years of pining, all those many nights of staying up late, writing down her hopeless romance into the diary she kept under her pillow, all those hours spent staring off into Ron’s direction during her lectures; they’d finally paid off. He kissed her, and she felt complete.

Parvati had warned her not to get her hopes up, that Ron’s sudden change of heart could have been a side effect of the adrenaline of winning the Quidditch game. But he kept by Lavender’s side all night, sneaking kisses to her cheeks between conversations, interlacing their fingers underneath the table, stealing sly glances at her from time to time. He pulled her out into the hallway, her laughter filling the empty corridors, the two of them drunk on each other’s love. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, whispering just loud enough for her to hear.

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

She felt beautiful. For the first time in six long years, she felt purely beautiful. She didn’t worry about her hair’s tendency to frizz, or the blemishes that had popped up on her skin overnight. She didn’t think twice about the way her stomach spilled over the top of her jeans just the slightest bit. Ron looked at her, and she was beautiful. 

He found them an empty classroom not far from the Gryffindor Common Room, and in the silence and the darkness, he made love to her. Lavender had never been touched like this before, but nothing about it felt wrong, or dirty, or inappropriate. It felt safe. As Ron ran his hands up and down her naked body, praising her beauty, kissing every inch of her skin, she felt safe. She didn’t worry about the way she looked without clothing or the way her body sounded, or whether or not her lack of experience would be disappointing to Ron. She didn’t worry about anything. She felt only peace and nothing else.

Lying in that empty classroom, with his arms wrapped around her and his lips finding her forehead, Ron called her Lav for the very first time. And for the rest of her life, no words would ever sound so sweet to her as those.


	2. Most.

He took her on dates.

He held her hand on the walk to Hogsmeade, his thumb rubbing the inside of her palm. She kissed him on the nose after Quidditch practice, then later that evening he whispered sweet nothings to her on top of the Astronomy Tower, his face buried in her hair, his arms wrapped around her. He told her she was beautiful every day, and every day she believed him.

She knew his favorite foods and his insecurities, and he knew just how to love her in the way that every girl wanted to be loved. She called him Won-Won, relishing in the way he blushed bright red and buried his face in her hair, kissing her loudly on the cheek for all of the Great Hall to see. He let her paint his fingernails red and orange, and he braided her hair before bedtime so it wouldn’t tangle. Every night, he kissed her on the top of her head, and every morning she kissed him back on his nose, and every day the two were nothing but happy.

She introduced him to Parvati, who accepted him graciously, if not a little stiff. He never made fun of her affinity for Divination to her face, but she caught him rolling his eyes whenever she predicted the outcome of his week. But every week, when she ended up being right, he’d knock on her dorm, tackle her in a bear hug and tell her how much he needed her. Without her, who would watch out for him? Who would love him as Lavender could?

He introduced her to Harry and Hermione, and Lavender did her best to fit in with his friends. She liked the way he laughed around them, the way they knew him inside and out, the way that Hermione always validated his insecurities. She liked the way that Harry called her Lav-Lav and the way that Ron’s face lit up with pride whenever his friends laughed at one of her jokes. She liked the way he slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his chest, sneaking kisses to her whenever Hermione turned her back.

He wrote her notes all throughout the day and slipped them into her bag, underneath her door, in between the pages of her textbooks. She drew him pictures of all sorts of things and he hung them up on the bulletin board in his room. He called her darling, love, sweetheart. But most importantly, he called her his.

Sometimes, he had to cancel their dates to attend to something with Harry and Hermione, but it didn’t bother Lavender much. She spent the time catching up with Parvati, or reading her Divination textbook, or drawing Ron new pictures of the two of them sitting by the lake, holding hands and looking at the stars.

Sometimes, he forgot to tell her she was beautiful. And on those days, she felt a little less like herself.


	3. Some.

He got busy, and she understood. The threat of war was looming over all of their heads, and Harry was struggling daily. Lavender knew he didn’t have a good support system or a family of his own. She knew that Ron was his family, and so she looked the other way when he started trading their dates for sitting with Harry and Hermione in the Common Room.

She went to all of his Quidditch games, but he stopped looking for her in the stands. She didn’t notice at first; she cheered for him just as loudly as always did, she wore his jersey like she always did, she sat near the top of the stadium like she always did. But where he used to scan the seats for her and wink, he now only kept his focus on the field, his eyes sometimes wandering towards other girls in the crowd. But it was hard to pay attention to the stands when playing Quidditch, and she understood this.

He cuddled her in her dorm before she fell asleep, but he seemed permanently distracted, his eyes fixed on the open window. She asked him what was wrong, but he couldn’t say, or perhaps he just didn’t want to say. She didn’t push.

Parvati told her to cut her losses and get out while she still had the upper hand, but Lavender would do no such thing. She would never willingly walk away from him, from the boy she had loved for so many years, from the boy who set her heart on fire, from the boy who called her beautiful and meant it. She didn’t mind that he was becoming more distant, so long as he was still present in some way. She still knew all his favorite foods and his insecurities, but it was like a wall had been erected between them. She had been locked out.

The day he stopped calling her Lav, she could have sworn her heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. The day he stopped calling her Lav, she stopped listening. The day he stopped calling her Lav, she felt herself dissolving into nothingness.

They were eating in the Great Hall, and he asked her to pass him the salt. And he called her Lavender. And from that moment on, she knew she was losing him. And part of her knew there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening. She was going to lose him.

She handed him the salt and pretended like nothing was wrong, as her insides twisted with nervousness. He kissed her cheek that night before bed, he told her she looked pretty, and he went off towards the boys’ dormitory. Locking the door behind her, sitting on the edge of her bed, Lavender Brown felt her entire world collapse around her.


	4. None.

Parvati told her. She’d heard from another Gryffindor that Ron had been taken to the Hospital Wing, but the student hadn’t been able to tell her why. She rushed out of the Common Room, her heart beating out of her chest, her mind going to the worst possible places. Ron could be dead. And then, he would never know just how much she loved him.

There was a small group of professors standing around his bed, along with Harry and Hermione, who was sat by the bedside, holding Ron’s clammy hand in her own. Lavender pushed through the throng, her eyes landing on the unconscious redhead, and for a moment, she wondered if perhaps she might vomit.

The tears came, and they didn’t stop coming. She cried and she cried and she cried, kneeling down next to Ron and burying her face in the blankets. She didn’t care that Harry and Hermione were looking, or that the teachers behind her were whispering. She didn’t care what they thought about her. Let them pity her. Poor, sad, Lavender Brown. Her boyfriend doesn’t love her any longer, and now he might be dying.

She interlaced her fingers with his other hand, remembering the days they used to spend strolling down the lane to Hogsmeade, laughing about what the future could hold. She stroked his palm, just as he did at night before kissing her and leaving her to fall asleep. She ran a hand through his hair, remembering how he braided hers to keep it from tangling.

And then, he stirred. And he mumbled a name.

And it wasn’t Lav, or Lav-Lav, or Lavender. It wasn’t her name at all. The name belonged to the other girl, because in stories like these, it’s always the other girl who wins in the end. It’s never Lavender. It never was, and it never would be again.

But she didn’t cry, not yet. She shut her eyes, she kissed him on the nose one last time, just as she had done every day for the past few months, and she straightened her back. She nodded at Harry and Hermione, and the group of professors standing behind them, and she exited the Hospital Wing.

Only when the heavy wooden doors closed behind her, did Lavender Brown finally feel herself fall to pieces.


End file.
